


A Borrowing of Bikes

by indifferentyoongi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indifferentyoongi/pseuds/indifferentyoongi
Summary: When Minho starts his freshman year of college and his best friend Woojin has now kissed himthreetimes over the past five years, Minho figures they should probably talk about it.He spends the next year kissing him more than three times, and they still don't talk about it.Until they do.





	A Borrowing of Bikes

**Author's Note:**

> Don't let ages interfere with your reading. Nothing is specified, but you can imagine it like this:  
> Chan = Woojin  
> Minho = Changbin  
> The rest are younger and will enter college in the following year(s).
> 
> Happy reading!

He thought there would have been a time at which they would have talked about it.

Maybe not the first time, not the night Minho turned sixteen, when he closed his eyes and pressed his palms together under his chin, when the feeling of his best friend’s lips brushing across his cheek would have been illuminated by the flickering light of the candles, if only he had been sitting around the table with the rest of their friends, watching, instead of hoping so fervently for his mother to let him adopt the cat they saw last Friday at the shelter that it was only when Jisung asked him later, when everyone else had fallen asleep, why their hyung would have kissed him, that Minho even registered that it happened. No, he didn’t expect they would have talked about it then. A birthday present was all it was.

And a consequence of Changbin’s constant scheming was all it was the second time. At no point did Minho think playing spin the bottle on the floor of Hyunjin’s parents’ basement was a good idea, not with cans of cheap beer piling up around them. There must have been a more dignified way to celebrate the youngest of them becoming legal, but no restaurant or bar or street side barbecue place seemed as appropriate as the house they’d all practically grown up in together. A revolving door of games of tag which became video game tournaments which became study sessions which became college entrance exam anxiety attacks which became whatever this was. 

“Fun!” Changbin had claimed. 

As if the blush across Felix’s cheeks wasn’t warning enough. 

But under the pretense of the game, there was nothing to discuss. Minho flicked the bottle of soju counterclockwise and chanted a quiet  _ please not Changbin, please not Changbin, please not Changbin _ , and, as if for once in their ten year friendship they both agreed, Changbin nudged the bottle with edge of his foot so it turned just enough to land not on himself but on Kim Woojin. 

The quiet of the room, usually so apt to reprimand Changbin for his transgressions, was the same it was four years ago, but this time Minho’s eyes were open. He watched as Woojin smiled, confident, cheeky even, and Minho did his best to send the most obnoxious wink he could muster across the circle. Two could play this game within a game. 

Woojin rolled his eyes, told him  _ don’t be gross _ , and pulled Minho forward by the back of his neck. Steady but with no force. Kim Woojin kissed the way he lived and loved and laughed. Steady but with no force.

It was quick, because it wasn’t meant to be anything but, not when they were all more like brothers than star-crossed lovers. 

That night it was Minho who asked the questions. 

“On a scale of one to eight million, how weird is it to know what Chan hyung’s lips feel like?”

“He kissed my forehead,” was Jisung’s sleepy reply. 

Not shortly after, Minho’s eyes drifted shut imagining Woojin pressing his mouth against his own forehead, as if that was more intimate than knowing the taste of his hyung’s favorite chapstick. 

*

It was only when they hosted visitors at the dorms did Minho think  _ maybe, just maybe, we should talk about it _ . 

All nine of them had never been apart as much as they were in those first two years. First it was Chan and Woojin whose group chat messages came less and less frequently, then Minho and Changbin who, despite joining their hyungs at the same university, spent more time traveling back home on the weekends to see the kids than living the college dream they’d always imagined they’d have with their best friends. It was the oddest feeling Minho had ever experienced, like he’d split himself in two when being with his friends was the only thing that had ever made him feel whole. 

It was Chan who suggested they try to get them all together in the dorms instead of splitting off to visit back home on disparate breaks in classes and work schedules. 

“There’s no way my RA is going to approve that,” Changbin had complained, so Woojin volunteered to shove them all in his room. Minho wasn’t sure if he was seeing the confidence that came with being a sophomore or the stupidity that came with desperately missing that which you’ve lost. 

He agreed either way.

And he thought he’d agreed to watch movies until they were tired and then go back to his dorm; there was no reason to take up space when he had a bed of his own. The air mattress Hyunjin’s mom let them borrow was already taking up all available walking space in the floor, and he had zero doubt whoever needed to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom was going to break their limb or step on that of someone else.

Somehow, Seungmin of all people convinced him to stay. 

“For old time’s sake,” he’d suggested from squished in between Felix and Changbin. 

Somehow, Jeongin of all people convinced him to take Woojin’s bed. 

“If Hyunjin sleeps with Chan and you sleep with Woojin, the rest of us can make it work on the mattress.”

“All five of you?” Minho confirmed.

They all nodded, as if being glued to each other’s sides was the best news they’d had in a year. 

Minho couldn’t fault them, not when the sight shifted the two wayward halves of him back into place.

_ Whole, whole, whole. _

Just like air mattresses aren’t meant for five people, dorm room beds aren’t meant for two people. Probably some conscious, executive decision made by rich men aghast at the idea of young adults having sex. Which was a thought Minho quickly shoved away as he climbed under the comforter he remembered Woojin taking all of three seconds to decide on two summers ago. Dark and monochrome was the only answer, he’d confidently stated while Hyunjin looked on in horror. Minho could imagine the most anxious of all of them taking a year from now spending three entire weeks deciding on his own bedding.

The blanket wasn’t too warm, at least, which Minho appreciated. There were more bodies in this room than the crack in the window could sufficiently cool, and Woojin’s skin radiated warmth beside him. 

It was impossible not to touch; if they laid on their backs with a gap in between them Minho would have just fallen off the edge, directly on Changbin’s face. 

He chuckled at the image playing across the pitch-dark of the ceiling.

“What’s so funny?” Woojin whispered as turned over so his back was facing the wall. 

That put more distance between them, so Minho scooted over farther away from the edge of the mattress. Distance once again gone, but Changbin’s impending peril was stalled. 

“Nothing important. We’re just kind of ridiculous. This is kind of ridiculous.”

“Would you have it any other way, though?”

“No,” he admitted without a second thought. 

“You try not to show it, but I know how hard this year has been on you so far. You know you can always talk to me, right? I’m still here. Chan is still here. Changbin, as much as you try to act like he doesn’t, literally lives in the building next to you. You don’t have to do this whole thing alone.”

“I know, I just—“ Minho found himself saying. He didn’t want to talk about this, not ever and certainly not tonight, but Woojin always had a way of talking as if he wasn’t lecturing or judging or assigning blame to any single word in a sentence. And that invitation in the safety of the dark when his heart felt full enough to be tipping over, when he felt like he needed to let some of this, any of this, out, was just too tempting to pass up. 

“I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I don’t want the maknaes to worry that they’re being left behind, so I try to be with them as much as possible, and I don’t want you or hyung to think I need my hand held to get through my first year, so I try to let you guys do your own thing. You should be going to parties and kissing hot people and missing important exams because you stayed up late kissing all those hot people.”

Woojin laughed loud enough that they could hear the mattress shift restlessly below them. Minho pressed his hand over his mouth, and they both waited several seconds with Woojin’s lips resting against Minho’s palm before the coast was deemed clear. 

“I can get the college experience and still care about you. Just like you’re getting your own experience while actively caring for the dongsaengs. That goes both ways, you know?”

Minho nodded, because that did actually make sense. 

As he was deciding just how silly he was going to feel about not making that realization for himself, Woojin’s hand was finding its way to his cheek, turning his head from the ceiling of contemplation to the silhouette he could make out of his friend beside him.

“Here, I’ll assure you I’m not missing out on anything” was all Woojin said before his lips found Minho’s, hesitant for only a second before his hand on Minho’s chest conducted a more confident rhythm. 

They probably weren’t the only ones awake in this room, and the sound of the trees swaying outside of the window was not enough to drown out was undoubtedly  _ skin on skin _ , but Minho kissed back anyway. In fact, if they had been alone, if he’d still felt so fractured and unsure, he had no doubt he would have pulled back the moment he’d realized Woojin was leaning in.

But nothing felt more right, nothing felt more secure than this. Right now. Right here. These lips and this touch and these hands. 

The easy teasing of “Are you calling me hot, Kim Woojin?” that filled the silence of the night when they finally parted, not for want but for need (of breath of clarity of a breeze to cut through the heat they’d generated between them) felt right, too. 

Maybe that was why they never talked about it. Not that night, not the next morning, not any night since. What was there to say when it just felt  _ right _ , like neither of them could imagine their days playing out in any other way than this?

There became a routine after that.

Minho allowed Woojin, Chan, and Changbin to settle into his schedule. They ate lunch together, tried and ultimately failed to study together, spent weekend nights at the gym after face-timing the others and assuring them they weren’t only eating fried and greasy food (they were). 

Whenever they met up, Minho was greeted with a kiss. Sometimes on his cheek like he was only fifteen again. Sometimes on his forehead when Minho pouted petulantly. Most often on his mouth with a squeeze wherever Woojin’s hands decided to land that day. 

Chan and Changbin never asked or teased. If Minho was a betting man, he’d have gambled his life savings away on the assumption that Woojin talked to them about it privately, told them not to say a word. 

Maybe it would have been better if they’d all just talked about it. Maybe then, as summer and the end of his first year of university quickly approached, Minho wouldn’t have developed this burning in his chest that warned  _ you are going to fuck this up but you won’t even realize it because you don’t know what it is you’re doing in the first place _ . 

All he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop. 

*

“My mom wants me to come home this weekend,” Woojin admitted just two weeks before finals were to begin. 

Minho turned from where he sat at his desk, notes scattered before him but Netflix stretched full screen across his laptop. 

Woojin was on his bed, book more dutifully in hand. He claimed he learned his first year that you have to start earlier than you think you do to prepare for the barrage of finals, but Minho thought this was a bit of a miscalculation. 

Surely they could be doing something more interesting right now. While they were alone. With no Seo Changbin, out on a snack run, in sight. 

Fueled by that thought more than what Woojin had actually said, Minho made his way over to the bed, plucked the book from Woojin’s hands (careful to fold over the edge of the page so he could return to being a nerd just as soon as Minho decided to let him), and swung his legs over Woojin’s hips. 

As if drawn by magnets, Woojin’s hands were on his waist, settled under his shirt and smoothing softly against his skin. 

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked with a gentle smile. 

Minho leaned down and kissed him. Not a peck to say hello or a lingering, lethargic good night before bed. He swiped his tongue across his hyung’s lips because the only thing he wanted to study tonight was the sound Woojin made when he carded his fingers through his hair. 

And Woojin let him. 

But Minho worried that Woojin was  _ just _ letting him. 

His hands never strayed above or below Minho’s waist. He never chased Minho when he pulled back (to breathe, to kiss playfully at his cheeks, to just look at his best friend, beautiful and bright as he’s always been). Never initiated anything more than the pace Minho set, not after the game, when Minho had been the one to be pulled forward, not after the sleepover, when Minho was the one taken by surprise.

Since then, Woojin seemed to have silently passed him control. That was probably why Minho was so convinced he would fuck it up. 

“Is that your answer?” Woojin asked when Minho leaned back on his thighs, hands on Woojin’s chest to keep him upright. 

“Answer to what?”

Woojin laughed, almost shyly. Almost. 

“I asked if you wanted to go home with me this weekend. My mom wants to get family pictures taken or something, and I told her I wouldn’t be willing to lose study time after this week, so I’m going to leave tomorrow evening after my last class.”

“I don’t see why I can’t go,” he answered before removing his hands and allowing the weight of his torso to drop him back to Woojin’s lips. 

This time just a peck (or three) before he wrapped his arms around Woojin’s neck, hugging him, allowing contact between every inch of them, feeling every bit as content as he’d ever felt. Didn’t matter that the bed was small, that Seo Changbin was unlocking the door, that he might be just a little bit in love with his best friend. 

If Woojin allowed them to stay like this,  _ close, close, close _ , nothing else mattered. 

*

“Long time no see,” Jisung greeted when Minho walked the familiar path through Hyunjin’s parents’ house that Saturday. His friends were scattered around the basement: Seungmin and Felix played a video game while Jeongin watched on, apparently rooting for both of their losses; Hyunjun sat watching a drama in the beanbag chair Minho was surprised to see still had any structural integrity left at all; Jisung watched baking videos on his laptop on the couch. 

It hadn’t really been that long—just two months—but considering he was coming back every weekend at the start of the school year, coming home to the basement did feel too long coming. 

“Where’s hung?” Felix asked, and Minho explained that Woojin had to spend the majority of the afternoon with his family before they could all get together that evening. 

After Jisung freed himself from Minho flopping his entire body onto the couch, pinning his legs and his comfort, he kicked at Minho’s thigh. 

Minho looked over, and Jisung simply looked back, eyebrows just barely raised, eyes just wider than usual. 

He smiled. If Jisung was asking what he thought he was asking, the only answer was a smile.

When Woojin finally made an entrance to the basement hours later, the room erupted in tight hugs and teasing of the hairstyle Mrs. Kim forced Woojin to wear during the photoshoot. Without either of them thinking better of it, Woojin greeted him last, just as enthusiastically, as if they hadn’t seen each other just yesterday, by squeezing Minho’s hand and kissing him quickly but sweetly on his cheek. Minho didn’t feel fifteen anymore, and his friends were no longer silent.

Hyunjin spoke first. “Wait a minute.”

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Jeongin spoke second.

Minho realized on the third beat of bickering amongst them that Woojin hadn’t thought to debrief them the way he seemed to have Chan and Changbin. 

He’d been saved up until this point of actually having to explain what was going on.

How could he explain when he didn’t even know.

“Let’s get dinner,” was Woojin’s genius response to the chaos and somehow, despite every alarm bell ringing above all of their heads, the group agreed. 

Minho didn’t miss Felix’s darting eyes noticing every time his arm brushed against Woojin’s as they walked to their favorite restaurant; he saw Seungmin pointedly look  _ away _ when Woojin whispered something in his ear as the oldest two let the rest of the group head toward the table first.

“I’m sorry,” was what Woojin had said. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Minho waved him off easily even though he  _ wanted _ Woojin to know. He wanted Woojin to say  _ I know exactly why I did that. _

Because Minho knew. He’d decided on the drive up, with their hands clasped together, resting on the center console as Woojin drove familiar backroads, Minho’s favorite playlist filling every corner of the car, every corner of his heart filled with  _ Woojin, Woojin, Woojin _ .

But Minho still wondered if Woojin was just kind enough to let his best friend love him. To hold him close. Like he was kind enough to let Minho borrow his bike when he was eight and he popped the tire on his own.

A borrowing of bikes was all this might be. A borrowing of kisses was all this might be. 

Jisung kicked his leg for the second time that day when Minho’s mind drifted from eight year olds crying to twenty year olds kissing without realizing he’d been asked a question.

“We’re planning a trip to the beach this summer,” Hyunjin explained again. “Do you have a preference of where we go?”

“As long as Woojin Hyung is there, I don’t think Lee Minho is going to care,” Jeongin teased, unexpectedly. 

Despite the unspoken agreement now five years in the making to  _ not talk about it _ , don’t even joke about it, don’t acknowledge it any way that made so very obvious the crush Minho probably had, but didn’t even realize he had, long before Woojin made kissing him the only sustenance he knew. 

Minho felt panic starting in his fingertips and radiating closer to his chest, but that all-consuming dread never quite reached his heart, not when Woojin leaned his head onto his shoulder.

“As long as Lee Minho is there, I’m not going to care. either”

“Well then. That’s that on that,” Hyunjin said from across the table, but it seemed like he was a million miles away.

Minho looked down at Woojin peeking back up at him.

He smiled, grabbed for Woojin’s hand under the table.

But it was Woojin who lifted their intertwined fingers to rest between their plates of greasy pizza. 

Still steady, but now with a bit of force.

Felix stared; Seungmin looked away; Jisung smiled.

“I’m face-timing Chan and Changbin, if I have to witness how gross you two are being right now, so do they,” Jeongin declared.

As soon as Chan answered the call, Woojin kissed him.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes inspiration hits and you just have to see where it takes you.
> 
> Woomin kissing is where it took me. alskdjfhdsf
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and I appreciate you reading!
> 
> I don't usually write anything quite this short, so I'd love to hear what you think. Trying to get any kind of development in this few words is so stressful sobs I look forwarding to reading your comments <3 <3 <3 
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/leemiknow) | [curiouscat](http://www.curiouscat.me/staykid) | [tumblr](http://www.indifferentyoongi.tumblr.com)


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